


Piecing Together Paradise

by Kyriadamorte



Series: Written post-TROS [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/F, F/M, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, scavenged TROS for parts and left the rest in a paupers' grave in the Jakku desert, time period: pre-TFA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:36:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyriadamorte/pseuds/Kyriadamorte
Summary: One upon a time, a stormtrooper sees something she shouldn't, does something she shouldn't, and feels something she shouldn't.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Rose Tico, Jannah/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Jannah/Rose Tico, Jannah/Rose Tico/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Written post-TROS [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584385
Comments: 36
Kudos: 51





	1. 1 - TZ-1719

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: There are some inherent power imbalances in Jannah and Kylo's initial relationship. It's not something he really takes advantage of, but they are there and could be uncomfortable or triggering to some folks. Please let me know if you need more info before proceeding.

TZ-1719 isn’t meant to see this. Of that, she’s certain.

She’s still not quite sure how Kylo Ren - Master Ren? Master  _ of _ Ren? Master of the Rens? What even is his title? - is supposed to fit into the current power hierarchy. Or what his particular job is. Elite squadron? Something like shock troopers? Assassins? Or something else. 

Regardless, he’s definitely above her station. And she’s definitely not meant to see him cry.

Truth be told, she’s not sure she’s meant to see his face at all. Unlike the officers, he’s always masked like she and her fellow troopers are. Well, not exactly like they are. His is different, of course, but…

It’s a nice face, even with the puffy eyes. A strong nose, full lips...and there’s something about his chin…

She should leave.

But she can’t leave. TZ-1719 was assigned to recalibrate the training consoles. The training consoles that are currently behind Kylo Ren. He’s got about a dozen droids littered about him in varying stages of disarray. Poor things, she’ll have to get a specialist in for some of them.

He’s on his hands and knees in the center of them, his black robes pooling around him. His broad shoulders are heaving arrhythmically in a way that indicates he’s not merely out of breath. His mask is off to the side, but she can’t quite see why he’s removed it. It doesn’t appear to be damaged. Is he wounded? Ill? Should she help-

His gaze snaps to hers and his expression shifts from something flayed and confused and open into a razor-sharp snarl.

“Get. Out!”

“But...Master Ren...the console...I’m supposed to-”

“I said, GET OUT!”

His words hit with the force of something else and she finds herself taking a few paces backwards. She weighs the threat of punishment from Orquen and the very real threat of punishment baring his teeth at her from a few meters away. She clutches her toolbox tightly to her chest before turning and fleeing out the door.

~

TZ-1719 doesn’t tell anyone. Not that she has anyone to tell. She’d been moved to a separate unit and all but reconditioned when they found her holding her bunkmate CR-2426 at night. Still not sure how she’d gotten out of that one. It’s not like they’d been terribly close; they’d only known each other for about a year. But it was comforting to have touch that wasn’t- To have touch that was  _ soft. _

But that’s over. And now she knows no one. Not really.

Eat. Sleep. Bathe. Train. Mechanics.

She doesn’t go back to repair the console.

She waits for the inevitable disciplinary write-up for being negligent in her duties.

It never comes.

~

The next time she sees him she’s standing guard at possibly the most boring meeting of all time. She tries not to let her mind wander too much, but it’s difficult when she’s never heard of any of the politicians before and so much of the conversation keeps circling back round and round to trade. Her focus inevitably settles on Kylo Ren, for all that she attempts to pointedly ignore him for about twenty minutes. 

The mask is still on and she’s not sure why that leaves her feeling slightly disappointed. Why wouldn’t he be? Still, he’s very....expressive. She’s not sure how to describe it. While the other officers (not that she’s sure he even is an officer) sit in uniform stiffness, his is more of a flawed facsimile of it. Her eyes trace his shoulders as they rise and fall with his annoyance. Mostly directed at Hux. Now that his face is in her mind, she pictures an eye roll to accompany every verbal barb.

It’s her fault, really. She shouldn’t have let her boredom cloud her judgement. But imagining Kylo Ren making faces at Hux is just  _ so _ much more interesting than anything that’s happening. And then…the thought of him on his hands and knees as she had seen him before. Looking up at her-

She feels his attention turn to her before she sees him turn his head. He cannot see her face. And she cannot see his. And yet she feels flayed and unmasked before him. And, somehow, she knows he feels the same before her.

The rest of the meeting is a blur and even when he finally turns away, she still feels his awareness of her like a palpable presence in the air. She’s so pinned to her station, so stuck in that moment that she doesn’t notice her fellow troopers file out of the room. Or the officers.

She’s just standing there, staring like an idiot. She should go. She should leave. What does she have next, lunch? She should-

“You fixed the console yourself, didn’t you?” she asks without thinking, before whipping her head around to see if anyone else is there with them. No one.

He cocks his head at her and she cannot see his eyes, but she feels his gaze behind his mask as it starts at her own mask, goes down to her toes and then back again.

“And you have kept silent about...about what you saw.” He somehow makes it sound like an accusation and a “thank you” all at once.

“Nothing to talk about on that front, sir.”

He stands to his feet quickly and walks towards her, ending less than a foot away from her, looming like some odd spectre. And yet...she’s not afraid. She’s not sure if it’s the dull grey walls behind him that rob him a bit of the evil sorcerer vibe or the fact that she’s seen him crying or the fact that, somehow, she knows he’s trying to appear as tall as possible or that, despite all this, she knows that he doesn’t actually even want her to be afraid of him. Not really.

And then, because apparently she enjoys testing her luck, “I’ll see you around, then.”

She doesn’t breathe properly until she gets to the mess hall.

She waits, again, to be written up for insubordination. It never happens.

~

Something shifts after that. She seems to see him more and, when she does, she can always feel his eyes on her. She doesn’t hide though, rather the opposite. Her shoulders push back and her spine gets straighter and, when she’s truly feeling daring, she turns her gaze from the prescribed two meters ahead to look at him full in the face.

He never says anything. 

She never gets written up.

They keep playing the game.

~

The rules change when he comes back wounded. His...knights? (she thinks that’s their title) dump him unceremoniously into the medbay. She’s crouched in the corner, updating the systems to incorporate some new drugs they’ve picked up from a dealer on Canto Bight. She knows there’s no love lost between them, but the lack of care with which they deposit him and the fact that they leave moments after without so much as a second glance…. Well, she wouldn’t even treat TE-0092 that way. 

He grits his teeth and tries to adjust himself on the med-chair. His arms keep giving out beneath him. So, here they are again. Is she supposed to leave? To pretend she doesn’t seem him in this moment of weakness?

No. Not this time.

She swaps out the data disk and sets it to run before standing up and walking over to him.

“I’m fine!” He snarls, his broken voice twisting into something monstrous beneath the modulator. The statement is somewhat underwritten by the fact that his arm gives out once more and he lets out a whimper that even the mask cannot fully conceal.

“Yeah, I know,” she says as she hooks her hands under his armpits and hoists him into a fully seated position. She can feel the heat of him through the palms of her gloves and lets her touch linger a second, then another even after he’s already seated. 

She should get back to work. 

She thinks she can feel his heartbeat.

She should get back to work.

A med-droid makes the decision for her as it whirs forward. “I must assess the patient.”

“Right. Get to it, then,” she says, backing away so quickly she nearly trips.

“Remove your helmet,” the stilted metallic voice beeps out.

Kylo Ren doesn’t move, doesn’t even acknowledge the droid’s presence. Just stares straight at her.

“Remove your helmet.” A beat. “Remove your helmet. Remove your-”

“Would it help if I didn’t watch?”

Gods above and below, why can she never stop running her mouth?   


“Or would you like me to take mine off too?”

Oh, look, it’s still going.

He cocks his head and although she cannot see it, she would bet money that an eyebrow is being raised.

Well, then.

Heart pounding, her thumbs reach up to release the latches and ease her helmet off her head. A rush of adrenaline she hasn’t felt since she passed her last round of trials rushes through her veins. It’s silly, it’s just a dumb rule, but they’re  _ never _ supposed to show their faces to a superior. Shit, she shouldn’t even be talking to him in a situation like this at all.

She’s not sure if it’s the glee of rule-breaking or the thrill of knowing that, after weeks of looking at her, he will finally  _ see _ her, but she finds herself biting her lip against a smile. When it’s finally up and off her head, she has a moment of fear - Will he laugh at her? Will he report her? Is he never going to remove his own helmet and they’ll just be stuck with a pushy and petulant med-droid forever?

But then-

Oh.

She’s seen him before, obviously, what with the whole…incident. But crying, snarling feral Kylo Ren is a bit of a different beast than the one she sees before her. His hair is a bit mussed from the helmet - because, of course,  _ he _ is allowed to keep his long - and his eyes have definite bags under them, but his face....especially now that she’s allowed to see it fully... _ wow _ . She doesn’t have an incredibly large sample size of faces to compare it too, but she really does like his.

She’s fairly certain he knows this. She’s fairly certain he likes hers, too.

“Scanning. List of wounds and ailments incl-”   
  
“I know how I’m hurt, thank you. Just focus on fixing it and send a write-up to my datapad,” he interrupts the droid before it can get through its programmed dialogue, poor thing. He doesn’t even look at it as he says this, although she will admit she’s not too worked up by his rudeness, not when the full force of his attention is on her.

“When you’re done, will you assist me back to my quarters?” his voice doesn’t waver, but the question is spoken slightly faster than normal.

Back to his quarters? But surely there are- Oh.  _ Oh. _

TZ-1719 has heard of this sort of thing. Hasn’t done it herself, no thank you. Technically not allowed and she doesn’t care enough about promotions to risk it or put up with it. And none of the officers make the short-list (or the long list) of those she’d consider taking a tumble with. Kylo Ren, though…

Maybe it had been leading to this from the beginning. Maybe this is where she wanted it to lead.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I can do that. I’ll just-”

She turns and trips over her own tools and curses. She hears a small puff of what she suspects is laughter behind her. She slips her mask back on and returns to her assigned task.

She’s never worked so quickly.

~

They make it through the halls with minimal fuss - something she’s fairly certain he is at least partially responsible for. He’s masked again and leaning heavily on her, although he can still walk. She tries not to catalog the feel of his muscles. Not that that’s a particularly easy task, what with his clothing and her armor, but still…. His wide chest expanding with each breath....his large hand grasping onto her shoulder….

He inputs his codes quickly and motions for her to deposit him onto his bed.

His room is...not what she was expecting. She’s not sure why, but she’d always thought the higher ups would have very lavish quarters. Paintings, statues, a bunch of chairs, for some reason. Who knows, maybe some of them do.

Kylo Ren does not. It’s larger than the shared bunk room she shares with five other people, sure, but it’s frankly almost as sparse. Bare walls, empty shelves. Had she been looking for a hint of the heart of this strange man, she would not find it here.

He reaches up and removes his helmet and places it beside him, shaking out his long hair. Oh, right, she should probably take hers off, too. Somehow it’s harder the second time.

“There’s tea and hot water in the corner. Pour us two cups.” And then - “Please.”

She shuffles over to the station he’s put together and attempts to make tea. She has a vague idea about how it’s supposed to work, but it’s not something they are ever allowed to prepare themselves. She guesses at how much to add and how long to brew and - judging by the face he makes when she finally brings it to him to sip - has wildly miscalculated both. Still, he doesn’t say anything.

And then continues to not say anything.

No, really, he’s just staring at her - not even her face, just a spot directly in front of him at approximately her midsection.

It’s getting awkward.

“Did you have something else you needed from me, sir?”

She’s not against a quick fumble or whatever else Kylo Ren might have in mind, but she doesn’t have all day and holding a swiftly cooling cup of bitter tea in complete silence was not really what she had had in mind during her short break period.

“I- Please sit.”

Alright then. She sits next to him on the bed and, by the way his eyes go wide and slightly alarmed, that was  _ not _ what he had in mind. Too late now - she’s not going to hold his while he figures out what he wants. If he wants her gone, he’ll have to say so.

“You’re TZ-1719.”

She’s not really sure what she’s supposed to say to that. “You looked at my file?”

He nods. “You’re performance is impressive.”

“T-thanks. Wasn’t really expecting a performance review.”

He fully looks at her, sits forward with a sudden odd intensity, and something shifts in his eyes - although she could not tell you what, “You’re different. You...stand out.”   
  
“Not really sure that’s a good thing, sir.”

The intensity fades and his expression shutters. “You don’t need to call me sir.”

His voice is...softer than before. And, beneath it, something...lost.

“W-what should I call you, then?”

He flinches back like she’s slapped him. He looks so young. Had she ever truly found him frightening? His mouth opens and closes. His eyes dart back and forth across her face, looking for something,  _ anything _ -

Then there are two large, warm, gloved hands on either side of her face and his lips are against her own. It takes her a moment to close her eyes - his are already scrunched tightly closed - and try to relax into the kiss. Despite the fact that his lips are full and soft, it’s still rather rigid and unmoving. She likes the shape of him, but he kisses like she and her bunk mates did when she was fourteen and they’d first discovered the phenomenon. She tries to move against him and slowly, so slowly, he responds. When her tongue peeps out to trace the length of his bottom lip, he sucks in a sharp breath and his finger scrape involuntarily at the nape of her neck.

It’s all going actually quite nicely until she reaches out to tug on his collar, in some hope that any part of his clothing would reveal the secrets of how it’s all supposed to come off. He jerks away quickly and has the audacity to look shocked. Isn’t this why he asked her here?

“You don’t have to- You can go now,” he says, almost a whisper.

She feels her cheeks flush in embarrassment, but she’ll be damned if she’s going to let him see her falter.

“Of course. As you say,” she says, placing her helmet back on her head.

And then, before she goes, “Sir.”

She wishes there had been more satisfaction in seeing him flinch.

~

In the following weeks, she resolves not to think of him, not to look at him. She fails spectacularly at the former, but is largely successful with the latter - although it is somewhat undermined by how actively (and obviously) she is avoiding looking at him. 

It would be a lie to say that they get back to normal. Neither the old normal of professional awareness nor the new normal of mutual somewhat-stalking. No, instead it’s this somewhat in-between with their shared kiss sitting in the middle. 

The need to quietly rub out a usually-unsatisfying orgasm on near nightly basis is definitely new. She thinks some of the others might have caught her once or twice, but she can’t bring herself to care. She wonders if he gives into the same urge. He’s got that whole sleeping unit to himself - no need to be quiet or hide what he’s doing.

Somehow, she knows he does anyway.

At first, she tells herself that she can live with the weight of his gaze whenever they cross in the hallways, whenever they are forced to be in the same room together. This is a lie. Her functionality takes a significant drop - as she is reminded by almost every superior officer, although none of them know why.

She’s not going to let this slide. She’s heard the rumors. That he’s some sort of magical sorcerer. That he can move objects. That he can read minds.

Well, she’s certainly going to give him  _ quite _ the reading material.

They’re all standing at attention. She and a few hundred of her fellow troopers in uniformly straight lines. Eyes forward. Shoulders back.

Kylo Ren stands off to the side, in line with no one, his purpose unclear.

She doesn’t have to look at him to feel him there. To feel him looking at her. Fine. If he wants to play, they can play.

She closes her eyes behind her masks and conjures up a vision of him on hands and knees as he was before, as he was that first time. He’s not crying, though, although his hair is still mussed. He crawls towards her - eyes free from tears and yet his lips are still puffed and flush as she’d last seen them, fresh from her own kisses. She’s free from her outer armor in this scenario, no reason to waste time on that. When he gets to her, he shimmies down her leggings, kisses up the inside of her thigh, tongues at the crease of her-

In the real world, she sees Kylo Ren’s fists clench violently at his sides.

Good.

_ Would you suck on me? Would your tongue reach as deep as my fingers? Would your hands grip my ass and- _

“Dismissed!”

Fuck Hux. Not like that, though.

Kylo Ren exists swiftly, yet stiffly in the opposite direction.

Good.

~ 

He corners her as she’s coming out of a particularly intense training exercise. She come out on top; she always does. But she’s not sure how to feel about that. The distance that has always been there between her and her bunk mates has opened into a chasm. She’s not sure she’s on the right side of it.

“You need to stop.”

A few months ago she would have been scared. Maybe she still should be. But she’ll be damned if he gets to offer her Life after years of Existence and then take it away and then act like it’s  _ her fault _ .

“Stop what,” she leaves a pointed, pregnant pause. “ _ Sir?” _

“You know what.”

She stretches longer than is entirely necessary. “Maybe you should elaborate for me,  _ sir. _ You know I’m just a stupid stormtrooper. Just here to come and go at your orders.  _ Sir. _ ”

“Is that what you’re angry about?”

“Not angry.  _ Sir. _ ” She says impassively, taking no small amount of forbidden glee at the frustration she can feel building before her. “That’s what we’re all here for, isn’t it?  _ Sir. _ Just to come at go at your bidding with no explanation.”

“That’s why I didn’t- That’s why,” His voice fumbles beneath the modifier and the result is deeply disconcerting. “That’s why I didn’t want to...go further with our....with what was between us. I didn’t want you to- You shouldn’t have to- That decision should not be mine alone.”

She takes a moment or two to unravel that mess of a sentence. Unfortunately, it’s not one that paints him as entirely horrible. “You could have said that then, you know. Instead of just letting me think I’m shite at kissing.”

She wants to take the words back as soon as she says them because if anyone between the two of them is shite at kissing it’s him and it’s important he knows this, but too late now.

“No, that’s not- There were a lot of things.”

“Oh, of course.” She bites back the ‘sir’ that’s on the tip of her tongue.

“Right.”

“Hmm,” she hums. She’s willing to forgive him, but she’s not giving him anything else in this conversation, thank you very much.

“So. Do you…” 

He’s really not going to ask, is he? Fuck, she doesn’t have time for this.

“I’ll think about it.”

She walks out of the arena and though nothing has changed, maybe so much has.

~

When it  _ actually _ changes, TZ-1719 has come back from her first operation. Alone. She’s alive, yes, but is she? She’s always been good at dodging - none of the others were. At least, not good enough. She’s the youngest, barely even made the cut for this and yet-

She shouldn’t be alive.

They shouldn’t have even been there. They weren’t murderers. They weren’t “lovers of chaos” or whatever shite Hux had spouted the day before. They were just people. Some of them old. Some of them young. Younger than her. They hadn’t been cackling in delight at the chaos. 

They’d been starving.

She can’t eat, can’t keep food down.

She killed them. They killed her- well, not her friends, but the people she shared her life with. They’re all dead. All of them, except her. All over some dumb fucking rocks.

Her room is empty. Will be, for at least another few days when they reassign troopers from the units beneath her. But for now, she is alone. She cries, she screams, she bites her pillow. None of it makes sleep come easier.

Three days of insomnia eat into her already questionable and frayed better judgement. There’s no one to report her. There’s no one to see.

She slips out.

The guards are minimal and she knows their rhythm. The path to his room is longer and shorter than she remembers. She finds herself in front of his door before she’s truly ready, but no, there’s no time to linger. Pressing herself as firmly to the wall as possible in a vain attempt to hide her presence, she inputs the code she had memorized from last time.

It still works because of course it does. Gods forbid the higher ups have to memorize a new code on a shifting biweekly basis like they do. Still, works to her advantage, so she’s not going to fixate too much.

The door hisses open and she slips in. He’s curled up on his bed in a fetal position. Almost manages to look small, despite the absurd, looming bulk of him.

She should feel bad, but she can’t really muster the guilt. Can’t really muster much of anything.

She walks over to him reaches out to touch him when-

He wakes like a lightning storm - flails in a fit of frenzied limbs as he turns to face her, reaches out and ignites his lightsaber and holds it extended, ready to strike.

He could kill her. That could happen. She’s not sure she cares. Not sure she remembers how. His eyes are wild, wilder than that first day so long ago.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

It’s true, though she’s not sure how much her delivery supports that. There’s no emotion, no pleading. Nothing. Just a fact. That’s all that she can give right now. 

His face shifts from something less feral, less fearful and - there - he finally sees her.

“Teezee?” 

“Put that away.” He’s barely awake. Going to hurt himself or the sheets if he’s not careful.

He does, after an incredibly long five seconds. “W-What are you? Why are you-”

“Tell me to go.”

She has actually rolled around to appreciating the fact that he didn’t immediately have sex with her. That he wanted to let her know she had a choice. She needs to extend to him the same courtesy. Because she has the feeling that - for all that he has infinitely more power in their undefined professional relationship - he is rather easily led.

“What?”

“Tell me to fuck off out of your quarters and go or else I’m going to fuck you until I come at least twice.”

He blinks rapidly and she can all but see the gears turning behind his eyes. His resolve solidifies in a stillness that reaches all but his hands. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and then-

He opens the corner of his blanket to her in offering.

If he thinks they’re going to snuggle and kiss and touch each other’s tits over a layer of clothing for a bit before things get started, then he’s sorely mistaken.

She rips off her top in a single, swift movement. 

Yeah, his eyebrows probably just live up there now. His mouth opens a bit at the sight of her chest and, sure, she doesn’t have a lot to compare it to, but the general consensus does seem to be that hers is pretty good. Any other time, she would have basked in the adoration.

(Any other time, she wouldn’t have been here.)

She hops up into his bed and onto his lap and wraps the blanket around them both, which doesn’t stop her nipples from pebbling against the cold. His large hands reach up to cup her chest and there’s no artistry to it at all, but she doesn’t need there to be. He’s warm and alive and here with her.

She places her hands over his, guiding his fingers to be closer to what she likes as she starts grinding into his lap. He’s already hot and hard and his breaths are coming out in gasping, grunting puffs. She leans forward and stops just before his mouth, lets each exhale caress her lips. Then, she slows, yet deepens the grind of her hips. The way his eyes scrunch closed and his mouth opens in a longing “ _ oh!” _ is the most beautiful sight she’s ever beheld. 

She can’t bear to look anymore.

Her lips crush to his and she barely gives him time to react before her tongue is in his mouth. He takes it with much more enthusiasm than last time and, although he’s still largely letting her take the lead in this, he seems to be a quick learner and his clumsiness soon fades to long, hot strokes against her tongue. His hands slide out and down along her ribs, her hips, her thighs. She breaks the kiss to nip and tongue along his jaw before taking his left earlobe between her teeth.

_ “Fu-uck!”  _ he says in a half-groan, half-gasp.

Then down, down along his long, tense throat and across his clavicle. Her hands sneak up under the hem of his shirt and she tries to remove it while  _ also _ feeling every dip and curve of his abdomen. Needless to say, this is largely unsuccessful. He takes the opportunity to sit up fully, cup her ass and then - with one quick motion - switch their positions so she’s flat on her back. Sitting back on his heels, he pulls off his shirt and looks down at her, breathing heavily.

No, no,  _ no. _ He’s not getting stuck in his head again, not when they’re finally getting somewhere, not when she finally feels alive for the first time in days. She grabs the one hand - still so odd to see and feel it ungloved - and places it down the bottom of her sleeping sweats. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth when his fingers first make contact with the wet skin beneath. Her hand spreads across his and gently moves his fingers to the side, rubbing in small circles, then larger, then small and tight and fast again. She cants her hips in small sharp thrust to meet his movements while staring at his face. At first, he’s looking down at their intertwined fingers, studying the movements like he’s preparing for a sparring match that he might not win. And then-

And  _ then _ ...his eyes lock with hers, both of them barely blinking as they wind the tension between them tighter and tighter.

_ See me see me see me. _

When finding her pleasure - whether with herself or others, she’s used to making herself as small as possible, as quiet as possible. And those are habits hard broken. Still, tries to let herself be bold and bright and  _ present.  _ She doesn’t stifle her moans - well, not all of them - stretches out and goes so far as to finger her own nipple with her free hand while he continues to work her round and round and-

She bites her lip as she nears a peak, but doesn’t let herself fall over it. Instead, she slows his hand and guides a finger in and out.

_ See me see me see me. _

He makes a sound like she’s hit him in the gut and then starts moving faster at his own pace. He -  _ oh fuck _ \- manages to hit a spot deep inside her that makes her toes curl and her eyes squint shut and her head fall back so she supposes she’ll let him.

“Fuck me fuck me fuck me.”

Oh, that’s her voice. Well, at least he seems to be slightly more aware of what’s going on than she is, because he’s already withdrawing his fingers and ripping off his bottoms, then hers, before spreading her legs. So much frantic forward motion and then-

He’s poised on his elbows with his face about an inch from hers, his long, ridiculous wavy hair falling across her cheeks. He looks lost.

He looks scared.

_ An old man running at her with little more than a sharp stick. His body falls with a sharp thud. A scared little boy cowering behind him. Lost, scared, help me, help me why are you hurting me- _

_ Everything tears at her this is wrong she’s wrong it’s wrong wrong wrong- _

Fuck, no, she didn’t come here for this. She wanted to feel, but not this, never this, get it out-

She rushes up to kiss him and it’s as much a bite as anything. The wounded, broken snarling thing she had seen on their first meeting no longer feels foreign and frightening. No, it lives and hums beneath her skin too now.

It takes a second, but he responds in kind - teeth and lips and forceful tongue. He enters her quickly in a single, slightly rushed thrust. As wet as she is, a white-hot sting still tears slightly within her beneath the thrum thrum thrum of pleasure she feels.

Better - this is a pain she can hold onto, not one that will leave her adrift.

Their thrusts are a fleeing, frantic sprint and she’s not sure what they’re chasing or what they’re running from, but it all fades to the snap snap snap of their hips and his large hand grasping at her thigh and his chest brushing against her own.

She rakes her nails across his ass and he bites down on the meat of her shoulder as his hips stutter and thrust hard once-

“Fuck!” she gasps and starts to fall herself.

Twice-

_ Fire and smoke billowing out from a group of small buildings. _

Thrice-

_ “My boy-” _

They’re both still coming when pushes up and off her. Even as his face twists in the last aftershocks of pleasure, he fixes her with a stare that is a tempestuous mix of anger and confusion and fear and betrayal. His eyes scan back and forth over her face looking for answers.

She doesn’t think he finds any. Well, neither does she.

She’s heard of his...moods...the kind that leave expensive equipment in disarray and scare the younger troopers. Despite their initial meeting, she’s never actually witnessed one of them personally and has no desire to start now when she can still feel his seed dripping out of her.

“Thank you.” she says, rushing to dress herself, and - despite how fucking stupid it sounds - she does actually mostly mean it.

Apparently it’s dumb enough that it stops him from getting fully worked up to whatever….whatever he was about to unleash at her.

“What?”

Get out of here you got what you came for. Time to go home and get some actual fucking sleep.

“That was good, yeah?” she says, pulling her shirt over her head and somehow,  _ somehow _ getting stuck in the sleeves.

“What did you see?” his voice is back to a barely contained rumbling threat. Worse than the modifier, because this is just him.

Oh, good, so they’re acknowledging the weird fuckshit that happened. Excellent. Except, no. Absolutely not.

“We should do it again sometime,” she says, plowing on ahead as if she hadn’t heard the question.

Except wow why the fuck did her mouth think that was a better option.

His face has migrated back fully into confusion and hey this might actually be a good strategy. Just throw enough dumb shit and nonsequitors his way and he’ll let her leave.

“You-”

She’s already halfway out the door.

“It was good!” she says in a voice cheerier and more placating than she’s ever heard out of her own mouth and oh look there goes the last of her dignity.

And then thank fuck she’s gone and down the hallway and - wait two minutes for the droids to pass - right left right right go go go - she’s back to her empty sleeping quarters.

Her heart races and her mind spins, turning what she’d seen over and over again. That had to be from him, right? But why would he show it to her? Had he even mean to? Surely not. But then how-

And then, worse and horrifically plausible - what if he had seen within her mind as well.

_ Fuck _ .

She does not, in fact, sleep better that night.

~

What’s shocking is that they _do_ do it again sometimes; that they don’t talk about the...other stuff, less so.

He looks like he wants to, sometimes - usually on the rare occasions that she stays long enough for the aftershocks to fully fade. He’ll pull her to him - draped fully across his body or curled into his side - and, even when she cannot see his face, she’ll feel his gaze beating like a heartbeat across her skin. Sometimes, when her mind floats particularly high and soft above her in the afterglow, she thinks she can feel his own reach out to prod at hers. But that’s all it ever is.

It’s mostly a relief - she hadn’t wanted to talk about it then and she certainly doesn’t want to talk about it now - but there’s a small part of her, the part that picks at scabs and asks questions she shouldn’t and decides it’s a good idea to fuck black robed wizards in the first place, that feels bereft.

She does get new bunk mates eventually, which should put a stop to their arrangement.

It doesn’t.

More than the sex, which only improves over time, she finds herself craving the soft touches that sometimes come after. Fingers drawing light, intricate symbols across her bare back. Lips against her forehead. Her own clumsy approximations of softness.

And above it, the breathtaking delight of being seen, of being - for at least a few minutes - more than a mask.

Somehow, she knows the same is true for him as well.

And isn’t that just its own perfect high?

~

She’s not sure how long it would have gone on. Most of her bunk mates catch on to the fact that something is up almost immediately. None of them make a move, though. They’re all still feeling each other out and hiding away weakness to be used at a future date. No reason to play your cards when you might need them later.

But change comes sooner rather than later in the form of new ‘recruits’ - to use a completely inaccurate term - from Hays Minor.

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Rose (CR-6732)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just saying - you can always kill me later. Think on it.”
> 
> Absolutely not.
> 
> Rose does, in fact, think on it.

For the sixth or possibly seventh day in a row, Rose Tico wakes up in a cell. There used to be others - friends, family, colleagues, strangers - but now she is alone. One by one they’d been taken out - some returning once or twice before disappearing forever - until it was just her. 

They can’t all be dead. This First Order is wasteful, yes, but, above all, it is greedy. Every life is weighed - how useful they are to the First Order versus how much of a shit the First Order has to give to keep them alive and keep them in line. Many of those that had been with Rose will not make that cut, but some...Some had been experts in their fields, brilliant scientists, worth far more than a young girl with some mechanical skills.

And, yet, here she still is, despite the fact that she told them she’s not going to work for them. She’s not going to break. They can’t make her. Paige is still out there, some of her friends, maybe a few other members of her family are still out there. She is small, she is young, and she is not a fighter, not really, but she will die before she becomes a traitor.

As if the trooper guarding her had read her thoughts, she - for Rose is fairly certain she’s a woman - says, “Not sure how you think you’re going to win by dying.”

“Not sure how you think you’re going to win by talking to me.”

Not her best comeback to be sure, but she’s running on fumes at this point.

The stormtrooper shrugs. “I’m bored and I can tell you’re going to try something noble and stupid.”

“Yeah, well, some things are worth being stupid for.” Shit, that had sounded better in her head...like most things.

“And how is this one of them? What is it you think your death is going to achieve?”

Rose is done talking. The stormtrooper is not. “People die all the time; do you think your death will be even a little bit special? That it’s going to stop literally anything?”

“Yeah, well at least I wouldn’t be helping  _ you _ !” Rose snaps, her vow of silence quickly abandoned.

“Wouldn’t be helping anyone else, either. Enough noble deaths and our job is done, isn’t it?” she says and Rose cannot piece out whether or not she is being teased or taunted or soothed or manipulated. The tone, the words, all of it through the voice modulator - Rose cannot figure out what the play is so she goes back to her sullen silence.

The trooper isn’t even standing at attention now, just leaning against the wall with her bulky white-armored ankles crossed one over the other. She’s definitely not taking Rose seriously. Hateful.

“Just saying - you can always kill me later. Think on it.”

Absolutely not.

~

Rose does, in fact, think on it.

She’s not going to fight for them or kill anybody - that’s still for certain; she’ll put a blaster to her own head first. And on a level of one to ten, repairing sanitation systems and atmo-vents for the First Order ranks at probably about a three on the traitorous sell-out scale. Still makes her feel repulsive, but hopefully something she can bounce back from.

How, though?

She’s got to get out. She’s never been an amazing pilot, but she  _ can _ fly. There are several hangars, only two of which she’s worked on at this point, but they’ve all got incredibly similar layouts. Problem is, they’re all crawling with troopers and then there’s the automated security features and crypto locks. Figuring out all three of those is going to be tough.

And what if she can’t? How long will she let herself live here before she calls it quits? And what should she do in the meantime? She’s heard tales of people who worked for the Empire helping to take down the first Death Star. She’s not sure if they’re true or not, but stories don’t have to be true to mean something. She doubts she can create a fatal flaw in anything, but maybe she could stop their trash for a few days or make the toilets reverse-

“Is something funny, CR-6732?”

Oh, shit, she’s supposed to be paying attention.

“No, sir, just something in my throat.”

There’s a stretch of silence in which she holds her breath, awaiting her fate. “Dismissed!”

Her shoulders visibly fall. Thank  _ fuck _ . They all disperse and she is left with her partner for the day - a trooper called TZ-1719. It’s odd; they’ve given Rose a number, but still haven’t put her in a helmet - probably to make sure people know she’s still not to be entirely trusted. She’s not sure if she’s supposed to feel proud or ashamed at this designation and ostracization. She wishes it were only the former, but if she’s honest with herself, after a few weeks, it’s a little bit of both.

“Now that it’s just us, you gonna share with the class what’s so funny?”

“Just dumb toilet humor.” Technically not a lie. Wait a minute … “You’re the one from before. From when I-”

“When you first arrived, yes,” she interjects quickly and firmly. A bit  _ too _ quickly and firmly. Right...watching eyes, listening ears and all that. Wouldn’t do to admit she was a prisoner less than a month ago, let alone have any negative feelings about that fact.

~

So many aspects of the First Order’s systems could be improved upon if they didn’t insist on using outdated Imperial design as the base. Not that Rose is going to tell them that. Still, it’s a bit frustrating repairing something that wouldn’t need to be fixed if they just overhauled the whole thing. She bites back curses, but is less successful at keeping in the frustrated sighs.

Her...partner...does not seem to be having the same problem. Then again, she probably doesn’t know any other systems. Doesn’t know how stupid this all is.

The silence between them is not tense. That’s not quite the right word. But it’s not quite comfortable either. “Hey, remember that time you saved my life by convincing me to kinda sorta betray everything I believe in and also my friends and family” is both a weird conversation to have and also a weird emotion to have. 

So, obviously, Rose is attempting to do neither.

“Dunno if it counts as fixing it if you break half the parts while you’re installing them,” TZ-1719 says without looking at Rose.

“Not gonna break them,” she growls in response, aggressively screwing in a power converter. Possibly a bit too aggressively, granted. Ugh,  _ fine. _ “And maybe that’s what I’m going for anyway.”

“Oh, is telling the enemy exactly what you’re doing all part of your master plan, then?”

Rose smiles despite herself. No, stop it, this is absolutely  _ not _ funny and she is  _ not _ being charmed.

“Isn’t that more your guys’ thing? Dastardly monologues and all that.”

“Maybe we’ve been a bad influence, then.”

Fuck. She’s definitely being charmed. Quite successfully.

_ Get a grip. You haven’t even seen her without her helmet off, yet. You’re just losing it because this is the only communication you’ve had with another person that’s both lasted more than two sentences and had any positive emotions at all. _

“Or maybe I’m being the bad influence and  _ that’s _ all part of my master plan.”

Laughter sounds weird through the modulator, but it’s still pretty nice to hear. “Oh sure. Gonna have to submit myself to reprogramming any day now.”

Their shift finishes with a far too easy back and forth. It’s almost...fun.

First Order systems are still inefficient and useless and stupid.

~

It only takes another two weeks for Rose to  _ actually _ break something. Except...this time she’s not with TZ-1719.

“Is this sabotage, CR-6732?” comes a deep, rumbling probably-male voice. 

Oh, good. There’s a blaster to her head. “Yes, of course, I’ll make one fifth of one particular First Order ship take cold showers for a week. That’ll show you!”

The blaster gets gripped a little too enthusiastically at that. Apparently, jokes are not a thing with the First Order.

(At least not most of them.)

“On the ground!”

“What?  _ Khadat _ , it was a joke! The thing is just a piece of junk; I’m not trying to-”

“On the ground, now!”

She has half a mind to try and fight him, maybe just end it all now...but...

Nah, not worth it. This one’s stupid enough that it might be worse for the First Order if he stays alive and unharmed. She kneels.

The trooper - BH something something - doesn’t seem to know what he wants to do now that he’s got her there. The silence ticks on uncomfortably.

“Alright, stand up. Come with me.”

They’re losing, they’re _honest to gods_ _losing_ to these guys. Unbelievable. 

“You sure about that?” Rose can’t help but ask.

“I said up!”

They start going through a zig-zag maze of hallways. She tries to keep track, but gives up somewhere between the fourth right and about the seventh left. She’s about to pitch a fit or at least take a stand and ask where they’re going when they come across-

Well. Something. Not sure how to describe it.

There’s a tall, hooded figure dressed entirely in frankly impractical black robes. They? He? She? is standing much closer to a trooper than Rose has ever seen any two First Order members be with each other outside of sparring. And the trooper isn’t looking down, deferential, like how it’s supposed to be. No, instead they’re doing what Rose can only describe as glaring up at the hooded figure, for all that Rose cannot see their face, with their arms crossed over their chest defiantly.

Her kind-of-jailer stops dead in his tracks. Apparently, this is outside of standard operating procedure for him, as well. Good to know.

The two figures stop their - argument? Conversation? - before Rose can really hear what either of them are saying and look over in her direction. 

“What is the meaning of this?” asks the hooded figure, voice lower even than her fun buddy’s.

“Taking this prisoner to detention for interrogation, Lord Ren, on suspicion of sabota-”

Oh shit - so  _ that’s _ Kylo Ren? He’s…no, he’s pretty much exactly as tall as Rose had imagined. 

“It wasn’t sabotage! The piece just broke, okay? I wasn’t doing it on-”

“You come from a bunch of filthy rebels and I bet you’ve been waiting to destroy us from the moment you set foot on this ship, despite all we’ve given you! Despite the mercy you haven’t earned!”

Well, yeah, true, but when she destroys them she sure hopes it’s gonna be more than messing up the temperature regulation on their water supply. She’s about to say as much, when-

“I’ll handle her discipline, BH-5465.”

Three heads turn to stare at the speaker. It’s not Kylo Ren who says it, but the trooper, none other than TZ-1719. 

“You? But you’re still a junior. You don’t have the right to-”

“I said I’ll handle it-” Her voice is firm and more steely than Rose has ever heard it and it  _ echoes _ with something that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. There’s a moment where she doesn’t breathe, where she’s not sure anyone is breathing. And then-

“You’ll handle it. I’ll just get back to my duties.”

And then the motherfucker just  _ leaves _ . Shit. What the fuck? What the fuck.

What’s even more odd is that everything in Kylo Ren’s body language seems to be screaming that he’s fully sharing in Rose’s “what the fuck” sentiment in this moment. A bit of solidarity she had neither anticipated nor is quite sure what to do with.

“TZ-1719, you will report to me once you have finished discipline-”

“I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

To reiterate: What the fuck?

“You will report to me to debrief,  _ immediately _ .”

“Yes, sir.”

Rose is absolutely not imagining the weird intonation on the ‘sir.’ Not even a little bit, she’s certain.

She grabs Rose by the arm and starts marching them in the opposite direction. Should Rose bow? Salute? Well, she’s certainly not going to do either, especially if Teezee isn’t, but she’s still got an incredibly strong feeling that all sorts of protocol has just been violated.

When they’re out of earshot and Rose’s heart has migrated down from her throat back into her chest-

“Um, what was all that about?”

“Me saving your skin, that’s what. Besides, I should be asking you, shouldn’t I? You’re the one in trouble.”

“I accidentally jammed one of the-”   
  
“Told you you were gonna break it.”

Yeah, yeah. Not to let the other woman have the last word she says “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” mimicking Teezee’s accent.

“Shut up.”

“Yes,  _ sir _ ,” she adds in a voice that is definitely higher than both her own and Teezee’s. Because she can.

“Shut up!”

“Are you like his apprentice or something?”

“Is it the ‘shut’ or the ‘up’ part that you’re having problems with?”

Rose doesn’t bother stifling the giggle that bubbles up at that. “Just wondering.”

“Yeah, well, stop it. Or do it more quietly.”

In Rose’s defense, she does. For about five minutes. “Where are we going?”

“Well, I’m going to take a shower - a proper one - and you’re going to take over my duties cleaning that bathing station while I do it. You know, as a thank you.”

Ugh, gross. “Do I get a say in this?”

“Sure,” Teezee says and Rose can hear the smile in her voice even through the modulator. “If you like, we can go find an officer and discuss your Very Scary Sabotage Plans instead.”

“Fine, whatever.”

After a few more steps, Teezee stops by a closet and drags out a rolling cart decked out with all sorts of cleaning supplies. She pushes it in Rose’s general direction and water sloshes out over the sides.

“ _ Khadat _ , warn me next time!” she hisses, catching the lumbering, awkward thing just in time.

“Keep up, CR-6732!”

Ugh. She pushes it forward with a grunt, her small legs doing double time despite the weight in order to keep up with the woman and her ridiculously long gait striding up ahead of her. Rose is only a few steps inside the bathing station when Teezee locks the door behind them. The lights take what seem like ages to fully flicker on, but Teezee isn’t waiting as she starts stripping off her armor. For someone who rarely shows even an inch of skin, she seems to have no associated sense of awkwardness of shame. The various pieces of her armor click clack clatter onto the floor as she efficiently disrobes in an order that makes absolutely no sense to Rose, but nevertheless feels practiced. When she finally gets to her helmet and takes that off, Rose stops breathing. 

She’s  _ beautiful _ . Her chin and cheekbones are so sharp Rose is sure she could cut herself on them. Wants to try. Her hair is cropped short - protocol, probably - but Rose wants to know what it would look like once it’s grown out, how it would halo her head. And her lips, her soft, full li-

Oh shit. And she thought she’d had a crush  _ before _ .

Teezee looks up and - oh no - even her eyes are lovely. Dark and wide and-

“If you want a show, that’s gonna be at least another four cleaning shifts.”

Oh, shit, she’s staring. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ugh...ogle. Did I even say that right? What a weird word...ogle. It’s just...well we’ve talked before. A lot. In, you know, a friendly way. Not that I’m saying we’re friends. I wouldn’t presume- Not that we’re  _ not _ friends or anyth- And, well, I’ve never seen you before. You know, like...your face and-”

Teezee is full on laughing at her now and she’d be more mortified if it weren’t for her glowing cheeks and her breathtaking smile and, oh gods, she’s got a small gap between her teeth and it’s adorable and how is Rose supposed to work now or ever again know that it’s there and-

“Go find a shower to scrub!” she says taking a fresh sponge off the cart and throwing it at Rose’s head. “Preferably not the one I’m in.”

“Oh, hush!” she says, pushing the cart to the back of the room, finally working through her embarrassment enough to feel both amusement and annoyance. 

She’s down on her hands and knees scrubbing out grout when she hears the water turn on. A thought occurs to her; she opens her mouth in warning-

“Oh, fucking shit - it’s cold!”

Oops.

~

The next time she runs into TZ-1719 is considerably less humorous.

Rose finished up early. There’s a trick she’s learned that gets the mini-backup generators in the droid charging stations back on in about half the time. She’s meandering her way down to the rec room - for what, she’s not entirely certain. The First Order’s idea of recreation is a joke except the really sad and deeply unfunny kind and it’s not like she has anyone who would want to associate with her anyway. But it’s a thing to do.

She doesn’t get very far when she sees a lone trooper walking towards her at breakneck speed. Everything about it is odd - troopers are supposed to be with a partner at all times and they don’t…speed walk. They do that weird little shuffe. But this one is coming closer and closer and no they’re not just coming in Rose’s direction, they’re coming  _ at _ Rose. She’s half inclined to make a break for it when she realizes she recognizes that gait, those legs.

“Teezee?” she whispers just before the other woman grabs her arm and continues walking at that rapid pace.

She stumbles a bit and is nearly running to keep up. “Teezee, what’s going on? Slow down. Wait-is that blood?”

“Stop asking questions.”

“Are you okay?”

_ “Please!” _

It might be the first time she’s heard the word in a while and it’s enough of a shock to stop even Rose talking and she lets herself be dragged along in relative silence. The hallways are empty except a few mouse droids and Rose isn’t sure if it’s an accident or something Teezee had been aware of ahead of time or something Teezee had orchestrated and she’s not sure which option would make her feel better. 

She gets tugged into a closet and then the other woman’s helmet is off and on the ground and her arms are around Rose. Frantic, panting, gasping breaths tickle her neck and her knees soon buckle under the weight. Teezee just follows her to the ground, folding over her and ending up somewhere in her lap.

“Teezee, we’re alone now. Please, you’ve gotta tell me what’s going on.”

There’s a few beats of note-silence before she answers, muffled into Rose’s neck. “He’s not here. The last few times he’s been here.”

“Who?” she asks, although she suspects the answer. “Last few times what has happened?”

She remembers the blood and suspects she has an answer to that, too. Perhaps she should feel disgusted. She definitely would have a few months ago. Maybe a part of her still does.

_ Who were they, these people they sent you to kill? Were they old? Were they young? Did they fight back? _

_ Did I know them? _

But she feels Teezee trembling in her arms, feels the first dampness of tears, and she says nothing.

“Just a few minutes. I’ll help again next time you get in trouble. Even if you want to do it on purpose or-”

“You don’t need to bargain for this. You can just ask,” Rose interrupts gently.

It’s possibly not the smartest thing she’s done. She could store this up for something big, play this card on some  _ actual _ sabotage or part of her escape plan, even. But she doesn’t. Doesn’t even want to.

“There wasn’t even any silver.”

Rose’s brows furrow at the non-sequitur. “What?”

“The mines. The ones they were protecting. The ones we were supposed to get. The silver was all gone. I don’t- I don’t understand. I-”

Rose has nothing to say to this. No answers for her, not really. Especially not ones she’ll want to hear right now. So she just holds Teezee tighter and rubs her hand up and down the back of her head and neck and mumbles soothing nothings in her mother tongue.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,  _ jannah _ ,” she says.

With those words, like some sort of magic spell she has placed on herself, she knows she will not be leaving any time soon. 

~

Something shifts after that. Or, more accurately, Rose shifts it.

Their next shift together, Teezee is all uncharacteristic stiffness and protocol - which won’t do  _ at all _ \- meaning Rose is the one forced into outgoing cheerfulness. She chatters about everything under the sun and doesn’t let herself worry too much over her words and by the end it’s not back to normal, might never do that, but Teezee’s shoulders are looser. So that’s good.

Their schedules for all that the First Order is at least nominally about, well,  _ order _ , there’s no real predicting their schedules. Sometimes they’re paired with each other every day for a week. Sometimes they won’t even see each other for two. But with every interaction, Rose pushes forward and pulls Teezee further in. The teasing’s still there, but it’s softer now. And sometimes something genuine will seep through.

“When we were younger,” she starts one evening, “my sister Paige and I would play these games with the songs from our region.”   
  
She’s not sure if it’s a mistake mentioning her sister. It feels more exposed, more vulnerable than anything else she’s said before, but Teezee is looking at her with unguarded interest and, somehow, Rose knows she’s not filing this away to use against her later. Lets herself believe that, maybe, the other woman actually cares.

“We’d swap out the lyrics to be about other people, make them be about our friends and family, sometimes silly politicians...except it sounds like it’s all epic even though it’s about all this silly and mundane stuff.”

Teezee squints. “I...I don’t know if I get it.”

“Well, who are people you want to tease. Or laugh at a little.”   
  
“You.” The answer comes quickly and with a smirk Rose cannot see, but knows is there. 

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay. Who else?  _ Besides _ me.”

“BH-5465,” comes the next answer and Rose heartily agrees. “GE-3131.”

She pauses and then, lower, “Phasma.  _ Hux. _ ”

Rose smiles and stage whispers, “That’s the spirit!”

She hears an intake of breath, but then there’s just silence where another name could be. Rose thinks she knows whose name it _ would  _ be. She doesn’t say anything, though. That’s not a knot she wants to untangle, not here, not now, anyway. She smooths over the silence as best she can.

“Okay, so what’s a song you like? The more over the top the better.” 

At first, she thinks Teezee is just thinking. But then the silence drags on.

“You got one?”   
  
“I don’t know any songs.”

Oh. Right. Rose feels incredibly stupid. And a bit like an ass.

“I could teach you some,” she says, quiet, apologetic - a peace offering.

“I don’t think we’re allowed.”

“The mighty First Order afraid of a good ballad? One good jig gonna send the whole thing toppling down?”

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why?” she knows why, knows it could get her in trouble for saying it and Teezee in trouble for hearing it, but she needs her to say it.

But she doesn’t. Just looks away, then down, before -  _ “Please.” _

Rose wants to push. But she doesn’t want to hurt her. But she’s close, so close to...something.

“There’s a whole galaxy out there,” she tries, barely more than a breath. “Songs...so many songs...you could listen to them every second of every day of your life and never hear them all. And paintings and poetry and statues and stories….I just...how can you live like this?”

It’s the wrong thing to say and Rose knows it even before Teezee snaps “Yeah, well that’s not for me to decide, is it?”

“No, of course, not. You’re right. I didn’t mean-”   
  
“I didn’t have any songs or games  _ or _ friends or family. You’re right. I don’t know shit about shit.”   
  
“That’s not what I me-”   
  
“But you know what? Your stupid game sounds like a big, stupid waste of time.”

“Come on, I wasn’t-”   
  
“Probably why your lot’s losing.”

It stings. Not for the dig at Rose’s childhood, not really, but for the reminder that Rose’s lot and Teezee’s lot are two different lots. That there’s a war and she’s losing. Does Teezee even care one way or another? She hadn’t thought so. At least not this way.

She opens and closes her mouth a few times; half formed sentences make their way to her lips, but pass no further. She needs to fix this. She doesn’t know how to fix this. 

And Teezee’s not going to fix this.

They don’t speak for the rest of the shift.

~

The next time they’re paired, it’s dead silence.

But the time after that, Rose comes prepared. She slips Teezee a slip of paper with a badly written ditty on it - in all senses of that phrase. The letters are wobbly and blocky due to lack of practice and a shitty, unintended writing implement. The song itself is based on a tragic ballad about one of the old goddesses that her grandmother used to sing.

It’s a risk, to be sure, in at least a few ways, but the risk is half the gamble, half the promise.

“What the-”

_ “I sing you the Tragedy of Rose the Fool _

_ No foot has ever been so far in a mouth _

_ No lone woman ever such a tool” _

She hears the snort and is encouraged. It’s melodramatic and some of the rhymes are deeply questionable and, most importantly, it’s a good few stanzas of nonstop digs at herself. She’s getting to the second chorus when Teezee finally decides to let her off the hook.

“Alright, alright, stop your warbling.”

It’s still an insult, but the good kind this time. Rose hasn’t completely ruined it, this thing between them.

She doesn’t know when being in a stormtrooper’s good graces became so important to her. Doesn’t know what it says about her.

~

Over the next few days, Rose soothes her conscience with a two pronged attack. Well, attack is a strong word. But she is making  _ some _ sort of progress, taking action against the First Order beyond just eating their food.

The first isn’t that exciting. Not much more than she was already doing, really, just a bit more intentional. She starts planting seeds with Teezee. Nothing too big, nothing too direct - not after last time. But she places digs here and there. Asks questions with hard answers. Tells Teezee about the possibilities of life outside these walls. She’s gotten better at watching, at listening, at reading her tells, learning when it’s time to push or when it’s time to stop. Rose has a suspicion that Teezee knows she’s being worked, at least a little bit. The good news is, she doesn’t seem to care.

The second is a bit more what she’d had in mind since the beginning. They take a while to craft, these little bugs she lets loose on the First Order systems. And they take even longer to actually run their course, to hide in the vulnerabilities of First Order code, to jump between systems that should never even have been connected.

Because, here’s the thing, First Order systems are a hack job of multiple pretend-upgrades from Empire systems, which were largely Republic systems, which were a mad dash of upgrades slapped together from the various planets as they rushed to augment their ships as fast as possible. Would have made much more sense to start over from the beginning, build something new and better from the ground up with these various innovations. And maybe that had been the plan, originally, once everything had died down. 

But it didn’t die down. The Clone Wars ended, but then the Republic ended and the Empire rose and massive amounts of firepower that could oppress people quickly and overwhelmingly was seen as a better use of their resources than making sure that System A worked well with System B and didn’t cause errors with System C.

And then, of course, the First Order rolled back around and playing dress up as the Empire in every way possible was more important than innovation that checked literally any other box other than “Bigger” or “Badder.”

It leaves open doors for even someone of Rose’s experience to inject things here and there as she goes about making standard upgrades to things like air filtration, sewage, lighting - the sort of things no one sees as a threat, because in a proper system they wouldn’t be. But a line of code here matches up with another there and all of a sudden she’s in places she shouldn’t be like security cameras, officer’s logs, and weapons schematics.

Well, not her, exactly. Her code. She’s still working on what she wants to  _ do _ with it, but it is there now, which is a start.

Rose gets caught only once.

It’s Teezee, of course, it’s Teezee. 

She doesn’t say anything.

~

Teezee is Rose’s only person here. But Rose knows she isn’t Teeezee’s only person.

She hasn’t figured out a way to ask about him. Kylo Ren. The looming spectral figure that Rose has only seen on a handful of occasions is quite easy to reconcile with the hushed whispers in the mess hall, but rather hard to reconcile with the whole...scene she’d seen all those weeks ago.

She’s got suspicions, sure. But they’re the kind of suspicions Paige would blame on having read too many cheap romance stories. Do stormtroopers even know about kissing? They must, or at least Teezee must, Rose remembers with a blush. No one can drop innuendo like that without at least vaguely knowing what they’re talking about. But it’s not the kind of thing she can just ask and it’s not the sort of thing she’s going to catch in the hallways, not with all the armor on  _ both _ their parts. Not unless there’s something kind of weird and kinky going on there.

So she doesn’t find out the truth until it’s over.

The first sign something is wrong, is that Teezee doesn’t show up for their shift. Even when they were mad at each other, Teezee never missed a shift.

Rose tries to play it off as normal, doesn’t want to get her partner her...friend into trouble. She hurries through the repairs

There’s a certain amount of inefficiency built into the shift schdule, so, despite the fact that she’s down a set of hands, she hurries through the repairs with an unprecedented sense of urgency and motivation, finishing a good half hour early.

After dodging patrols and popping in and out of closets, sparring halls, and rooms whose function Rose is not quite certain of, Rose finds her in a bathing station, sitting on the floor as water sprays down over her face, down her arms and back.

Normally, Rose would be having several thoughts after seeing the other woman  _ actually _ naked. But there’s no room for that now. Not when it’s all taken up with concern. Because Teezee looks small in a way she never does and her shoulders are hunched and her eyes are red, betraying the tears that might otherwise have been hidden beneath the shower.

“Shit,  _ jannah, _ are you alright?” she asks, frantic, barely noticing the endearment that has once again escaped her lips.

“Yeah,” and boy does she  _ not _ sound it. “Made a stupid decision and then I made a smart one. Or maybe I made a smart one and then a stupid one. Or maybe just a bunch of stupid decisions all on top of each other and they’re all finally starting to fall.”

Yeah, this level of cryptic isn’t gonna fly. Rose turns off the shower and crouches down to wrap a towel around her shoulders. “You wanna maybe try that again in Basic?”

“We had a thing - don’t ask me who; I know you know.” Well, Rose hadn’t before, not for certain, but she certainly knows now. “But I called it off because…”

She looks up and peers into Rose’s face before turning her attention back to her toes. “Doesn’t matter why. Point is, I had a thing, a good thing, even. Usually. Something that felt nice, that was mine, and I ended it and I’d probably do it again, but I don’t know if I would and I feel like shit that it’s over and I feel like shit that I wish it wasn’t.”

“Are you worried he’s going to do something? Is that how it started? Did he-” Now that Rose has been permitted to ask questions, the dam has broken and everything she’s wanted to know for the past few months comes pouring out.

“No, that’s not what...that’s not how it was,” Teezee interrupts, brows furrowed.

“Not that it would matter if it were,” Rose grumbles.

“You’re right,” Teezee snaps. It’s that coiled, corned, nasty tone that means she’s about to lash out. And perhaps it’s horrible, but Rose welcomes its return. The anger, at least, is familiar. Much easier to handle than the broken, lost sadness. “Is that what you want to hear? You’re right. But that’s how you know I’m telling the truth. He would never have let me go otherwise. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not that.”

Teezee’s fierce protectiveness over Kylo Ren stir up a storm of nasty emotions in Rose herself, not the least of which is jealousy. “No, he’s just a murderer.”

“Yeah, well so am I!” 

The sentence and the truth of it sits heavy between them. Her voice had broken towards the end and something in Rose had broken too.

“Teezee, I didn’t mean-” Why, why,  _ why _ is she always saying this? Why can’t she just get it right?

“You think because we joke with each other” her voice dips to a low hiss “and I don’t tattle when I see you messing with the controls or whatever the fuck it is that I’m a good person?”

“Yes!”

That throws her for a loop for a good five seconds before she finds her footing and her fury again.

“Well, I’m not. And, yeah, neither is he, but you know what? Maybe neither are you.”

It stings. But this is what Teezee does and she’s not going to let herself get mad. She’s not, she’s not, she’s  _ not. _

She is a bit.

_ And whose fault is that? I wanted to die; it’s your fault I’m here! It’s your fault I’m  _ still _ here.  _

_ Probaby. _

Teezee pulls the towel tighter. “We’re all just pieces, Rose. Now, go on. Fuck off to your next assignment and let me get dressed, yeah?”

Rose stands up like she’s drunk and stumbles out of the bathing station, barely aware of her surroundings as she makes her way to her bunk. She doesn’t realize until later when she’s crying herself to sleep that that’s the first time Teezee’s ever called her Rose. 

Pieces indeed. She’s not giving up.

~

Rose reminds herself she’s not giving up when Teezee is giving her the silent treatment. And when she’s spending their entire shift cataloguing Rose’s flaws and micromanaging her work. And through every jab and snipe.

Eventually, it starts to die down. Mostly. Rose tests the state of things by adding a bit of code to a system they’re not even upgrading, not even  _ cleaning _ , while Teezeee is looking straight at her.

Teezee rolls her eyes but doesn’t comment.

~

The thing is, even with the enabling treason bit and the teasing bit and the innuendo bit and the - well, what could be most easily categorized as “girl talk” - bit and the never ending forgiveness of slights, Rose doesn’t really get it. In retrospect, she’s not entirely shocked; she’s never been the best at picking up these kinds of signals, even from those who have been socialized to give them properly.

Teezee ends up giving signals that not even Rose can miss.

~

“Where did you get that? Wait, no, don’t tell me.”

Teezee has dragged Rose into a closet and locked it behind them. She’s swaying slightly and in one hand is a bright blue bottle of something with a very high alcohol content from Corellia, although she’s not quite sure what.

“Kylo!” she says in the worst whisper Rose has ever heard before bursting into slightly hysterical giggles.

“Have you ever even had alcohol before?” Rose hisses back, although judging by the faces the other woman makes every time she takes a sip, she’s guessing the answer is “no.”

“This is your fault you know,” she says, as if she hasn’t heard Rose’s question at all.

“My fault?” Rose replies, in what is definitely not a whisper. “How in the galaxy is it my- I thought we were  _ good?” _

“You are, you are; that’s the problem.”   


“Wha-

“And I wanna be with him, but I can’t, not when you’re here and you’re watching and you’re-” 

She gestures at Rose clumsily, almost hitting her face, “-you! You’re all made up of light, Rose, and I don’t know what to do with it. You’re like sand in my shoe. I can’t be who I was before and I can’t be who I was with him...not without…” 

She takes a sip, makes a face. “We don’t fit right and he doesn’t understand and he won’t listen when I tell him about the dreams and-” 

She trials off again, thankfully not drinking this time, “but I don’t fit with you either and I want- I want to fit. I want you to sing more songs, but for me to know the words. I want to see a planet with you with my own eyes. I want to ride some of those ridiculous animals with you...those whatsits…. I want to be able to talk about things the way you do, think about them the way you do.”

“You can,” Rose says, urgent, leaning in and cupping the other woman’s cheek. “I promise you can, we just need to find a way out of here.”

“I want to do this, too,” Teezee says before kissing Rose full on the mouth. Her lips are full and soft and have the sharp taste of...whiskey? She’s not sure, not really an expert, and she wishes it wasn’t what she was tasting the first time she’s kissing her. 

Rose pulls away gently, soft enough that she’ll know it’s not a rebuff. “Are you sure? With me? Even with...with him?”

She doesn’t know why she’s asking, but she can’t quite stop herself.

“Yes. Even with this you both tear at me.”

That sounds rather dire. And oddly poetic, coming from a person who knows no poetry.

“I’m sorry.” It doesn’t feel like the right answer, but it’s all she has.

Teezee makes a “psssht” sound and waves her off. Not quite sure how to take that.

“Spent my whole life barely feeling anything and now both of you had to come in and ruin all that and I can’t even make myself want to go back.”

Rose leans back in, strokes Teezee’s cheek and kisses her forehead before tucking her into the crook of her neck.

She nuzzles Rose a bit in silence before mumbling into her skin, “I don’t know what kind of person I want to be, but I do know I want to be a person.”

“You are. Of course you are! You always were.” The wave of affection for the woman in her arms followed by hatred for the people that made her feel this way followed by her own helplessness leave Rose breathless and dizzy.

“You don’t understand, Rose.”

“You’re right; I don’t.”  _ But I want to. I do. _

“I’m going to die and I’ve only just started living and I can’t even get that right.”

“But you don’t have to live like this,  _ jannah,”  _ Rose says and this time Teezee’s willing to hear it. She cradles the taller woman closer to her and starts stroking her back. Her breath starts coming in ragged and shaky beneath Rose’s fingers and she wonders if anyone has ever done this for her before, touched her like this before. “One day, we’ll find a way out. We’ll find my sister and a place to be safe and I’ll teach you so many stupid songs and we’ll ride fathiers and orbaks and kajarak. I promise.”

“I...I know,” she says and Rose’s heart soars and hope fills her lungs fuller than she’s felt since she was captured. “There’s…there’s something coming. Something big.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s good right? Nothing worth getting hungover for.”   
  
Teezee disentangles herself and looks Rose dead in the face, “You don’t understand. He didn’t either...I’ve seen...I keep seeing...”   
  
She closes her eyes, takes a breath, and starts again. “Rose, I don’t know if you’re going to be alright at the end of it.”

Rose wants to dismiss it, brush it away as nothing more than nightmares. But she doesn’t. Partially because she knows Teezee’s not in a state to hear that.

Partially because she doesn’t think it’s true.

~

Rose thought there would be time to prepare before this “something big” hit. As it happens, when it does, she’s actually fast asleep. She’s jostled awake by light bombardment to the ship’s hull and opens the door to chaos. There’s a lot of shouting and people running while putting on clothing (something Rose is engaging in a bit, herself). She’s still not a fighter, luckily, so she’s not receiving any orders. Unluckily, this also means she has no idea what’s going on.

She manages to piece together as she’s running down the halls that they’re being hit by a small group of fighters from Arroshai, a mining planet not unlike her own that has been under “observation” and “negotiations” for the past fortnight or so. Rose’s heart suges in pride and despair and the tiniest bit of hope that she’s too afraid to feel. There’s no Republic fighters, not that she can tell, no Resistance, nothing but a handful of citizens make a stand with no one there to help them.

_ That’s it; show those sons of muck that you’re not going to take it lying down! _

_ Don’t! You can’t win this! _

_ Come on come on come on! _

_ Mama- _

She’s feeling too much, seeing too much, hearing too much. The beginning of a panic attack is crawling its way up her spine when a single thought cuts through everything else.

_ Teezee! _

~

This is their chance, their only chance - Rose knows this in her bones, in her soul.

...and Teezee wants to waste it on Kylo Ren.

“You don’t understand; he’s not a bad pers- He’s not meant to be here; he’s trapped like we are!”

She says, guiding Rose down a hallway in the complete opposite direction of where she wants to be going. She’s got the hangar picked out! She’s at least vaguely familiar with the controls for all of the ships! That Teezee’s going to throw it all away for that-

“So is almost everyone else!” she grits out, trying to make it look like they aren’t arguing as troopers rush past them. “Are we going to bring all of them with us?”

“One day...eventually...yes.”

Fucking hells. “How am I supposed to stand up to you when you talk like that?”

When she’d been trying to turn Teezee towards revolution, this wasn’t exactly what Rose had in mind. Except it was. It was and more, gods damn it. Fine.

“Learned from the best,” she says in a way that sounds chirpy even beneath the voice modulator and Rose cannot see her face, but she knows Teezee is giving her that blinding, cheeky, gap-toothed smile beneath her helmet. 

“Here, take this,” she says, handing Rose a blaster.

Then her voice shifts into something softer, more urgent. “Please, Rose, I can’t leave him. I left him, but I can’t  _ leave _ him. Not after what I’ve seen. I could never forgive myself.”   
  
“What you’ve seen?”

“I’ll tell you later - trust me, please!”

And she does. For better or for worse, she absolutely does.

They eventually come upon a room that Rose has never entered before and Teezee enters a code quickly with practiced fingers, opening the door.

Inside is a man that must be Kylo Ren, judging by the outfit, although he’s not wearing the mask. He’s handsome and younger than Rose had expected. His eyes go wide with shock before furrowing in confusion as he takes in the both of them. Luckily, anger doesn’t seem to be one of the emotions he’s cycling through. Mostly.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Really should have changed your codes, you know.”

(Rose mentally adjusts how intelligent she thinks Kylo Ren is.)

“But hopefully that’s going to be a moot point,” Rose interjects, hoping she can get this encounter - that she never wanted to happen, mind you - back on schedule. “Right, Teezee?”

“And you are?”

“I’m Rose.” There’s a flicker of recognition that Rose decides not to unpack. “But Teezee here has got something she wants to say, right, Teezee?”

Rose hopes that they can all focus and not have this turn into some weirdly dramatic ex squabble. 

“You’re coming with us.”

Okay, that could have been phrased better.

“Are you threatening me,  _ trooper _ ?”

“Oh fuck you-” Wow, maybe Rose should have just done all the talking. “- you know I wouldn’t do that!”

“Do I?”

Teezee doesn’t acknowledge the interruption. “We’re leaving the First Order and we want- I want-  _ We _ want you to come with us.”

A bit of a stretch, but not wholly inaccurate, not now that it’s the only real option left to them.

“My place is here.”

Naturally.

“Bullshit! I know you hate it as much as I do. I know you want to be free.”

“I have nowhere else to go.” 

“You do! Come with us and we’ll find a place away from all this.”

He’s shaking his head and he’s...is he crying? “It’s too late.”

“I don’t believe that. I won’t,” Teezee says, stepping fearlessly towards his imposing figure. “Because if it’s too late for you then it’s too late for me, too.”

The weight of her words brings a silence between them, a silence that cuts deep, deeper than the chaos happening beyond the door. 

“Maybe it i-”

Rose hits him with a stun and he drops to the floor in a black pile of robes. Teezee is staring at her like she’s never seen her before.

“Sorry! It’s just- It was about to be too late for  _ all _ of us!” Rose says, defensively.

Teezee just sighs and asks the million credit question, “How the fuck are we supposed to get him out now?”

~

Between them, they do actually manage it, although Teezee is definitely taking more of the load and, due to their extreme differences in height, it looks more than a bit ridiculous. 

“He was injured!” Teezee shouts when they start getting looks. “We’re getting him to the med bay - out of the way!”

Her voice hits with that authority Rose has really only heard once before and they scatter, not questioning why they are heading  _ away _ from the medbay and  _ towards _ the hangar.

The conflict is mostly playing out as a dogfight between TIE fighters and the local ships so most of what’s left are the transport ships used for ground invasions. Clunky as hell and not particularly fast, but it’ll have to do.

They deposit him unceremoniously on the floor and start preparing to depart. Even with the detour for a grumpy, stubborn dark wizards man-boy, it looks like they might actually make it!

“What the fuck are you doing?”

_ Don’t count your kyber before it’s tested, Rose. _

They turn slowly, Teezee with her blaster raised. At the bottom of the transport ship’s ramp are four troopers that have stepped out from the chaos to inspect what they’re doing.

“I’m a better shot than you, Kaygee,” Teezee says and, oh mineral below, this not the time for a pissing match.

“Better than all four of us?” Behind them, a few more troopers seem to catch sight of their conversation and start walking towards them.

“Some days, yeah.” 

_ This is stupid, not attractive. This is stupid, not attractive. This is- _

What she says, is “We don’t have time for this.”

Teezee gives a slight nod of her chin. “You’re going to let us go and forget that you saw us.”

Three blasters waver and fall, one faster than the others, and they start backing away. The fourth, however… “Wh- what were you trying to- Get down on the ground, now!”

“Can’t do that Kaygee,” Teezee says and then a barrel goes flying, knocking all four of them over like bowling pins. There’s a moment where Teezee looks like she’s going to shoot, a tensing of the arms, an inhalation of breath….and then she lowers arms and slams the door shut. 

“Come on, we gotta get out of here.

Like Rose was the one holding up proceedings...but she doesn’t take the moment to point that out. Six blaster shots make it through the small opening as the door finishes closing. Which means the troopers are up. Which means more troopers probably know. Which means getting out is going to be even more fun of the Not variety than Rose had already been anticipating.

Through the glass in the cockpit, a dozen, then two, then three, then four dozen troopers stop heading towards their own ships and start shooting at them. The blasters bounce off, largely ineffective. The part of Rose’s brain that isn’t split between flying and panicking snickers at their inability to remember their own ship model’s weaknesses and defenses.

When they emerge into the hanger, as Rose had suspected, they are surrounded by a slaughter. The TIE fighters swarm the rounder Arroshian ships like insects before blasting them to pieces. If Rose had been a hero, maybe she would have turned and helped. Would have died in battle. 

_ Waste, waste, waste. _

But she doesn’t. Even when a few TIEs tail off to hunt them down, she works with Teezee to weave in and out of the lines of fire, more than shooting back.

They manage to disentangle and get a reasonable distance.

And then…

_ Jump. _

~

Hyperspace is always quieter than Rose expects it to be.

It’s perhaps made even quieter by that fraught silence that tends to wrap around Teezee when she’s got something on her mind. Maybe Rose should let it sit, give her time to process.

“You okay?”

Well, so much for that.

Teezee nods, but it’s a tense, jerky motion. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no need for that! You did a big thing today. I mean, sure, he was big and heavy and put us back half an hour, but we managed to get away in the en-”

“Wasn’t talking about that. Well, maybe a bit about that too,” she concedes with a small quirk of her eyebrow and inclination of her head. “But I’m sorry about not killing them.”

That throws Rose a bit for a loop. “Uh...what?”

“Shoulda just shot them. Wasn’t bullshitting before, I could probably have outshot all four of them. Woulda been faster. They probably wouldn’t have told anyone else. Made our getaway messier. Might be on our tails now.”

She’s slipped into clipped not-quite-sentences and she won’t look at Rose.

“It’s fine. That’s not really the sort of thing you don’t really need to apologize for.”

Teezee looks at her now, her face a mask of disbelief.

“I mean it,” she insists.

And to Rose’s own slight surprise, she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience in waiting for this chapter and the lovely comments I've received in response to perhaps my nichest ship yet!


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